Dust

(From 2016)

The second time I saw him, he was leaning against a column in a hotel lobby. My friends and I were on a youth church retreat, and we had just unloaded our bags near the front desk. He was casually standing on one foot, with the other foot resting on the base of the column just a few inches above the floor. He had shoved both hands into the pockets of his windbreaker, and the effect made him look a little dangerous. Intrigued, I carefully circumvented the hotel lobby, so that I could observe him without garnering attention. I moved behind a group of giggling girls, and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible. I maneuvered my way to the left of the group, and realized I had found a perfect vantage point from which to observe him. Now I took full advantage of my hiding place, and looked at him more carefully. He was, perhaps, 16 with wide shoulders, and brown, chestnut hair that fell over his left eye.

He was beautiful.

Just then, he looked up as a friend called him from across the lobby. “Seth! Hey Seth! Over here!” He smiled a little as he acknowledged his friend, and leaned down to pick up his bag. As he stood up, he tossed his hair away from his face, revealing the stormiest blue eyes I had ever seen. They weren’t exactly blue, and they definitely weren’t gray. They looked like the color of a summer storm as it gathers in the western sky--with saturated hues of dark blue and pensive gray. I watched Seth walk toward his friend, who was, coincidentally, standing somewhere behind me. I moved away so that he wouldn’t see me, as he continued to walk toward his friend--and my hiding place. I darted around another cluster of chattering people who had gathered near the front of the lobby. I quickly turned around, and pretended to look out the bay window of the old hotel. I stood there, staring at the street scene outside…but I really had no idea what I was staring at. All I could sense was the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

I waited.

Breathe.

Breathe.

A few minutes elapsed. I was sure I had felt him walk past me. I don’t know how I knew it was him, but I knew. I continued to stay rooted to my place by the window, silently chastising myself for such a silly, school girl reaction. I waited for another five…ten heartbeats. I couldn’t stand there forever. Another heartbeat, and then another…and finally, I realized the group I had arrived with, was being paged. No more time. I smoothed my shirt, and ran my fingers through my hair, before finally turning around.

And there he was. He was standing directly across from me, just a few feet away. I could feel the color rising to my cheeks once again, but I reminded myself that he couldn’t possibly know what I was thinking, or what I was feeling. I stood there, with my gaze fixed on a tiny spider web in the corner of the ceiling, as our group leader spoke and handed out room assignments. I missed every single word she said. There was only Seth, and me, and the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

I don’t know how much time passed, but eventually a group leader came over, and encouraged me to take a room assignment. “Here, Scarlett, she said. You’ll need to go find your room, and get unpacked before it’s time to meet for dinner.” I nodded, and finally looked down at the paper she had placed into my hand. I sighed, and let myself relax a little. I retrieved my bag, and turned to find my roommate. But, I didn’t see her. All I saw was Seth. He hadn’t moved. But now…his demeanor had changed, and he was looking at me! Had he read my mind? He must have. Why would he be looking my way, I wondered. I tried to act as if I hadn’t seen him looking, as I attempted to casually walk up the grand staircase toward my room. I refused to even let myself look back toward the lobby, where I assumed Seth was still standing. I couldn’t let him know…maybe I could never let him know…that I was quietly, hopelessly falling in love with him.

That was over 40 years ago, and the memory of that beautiful young man, casually leaning against a column in a quaint seaside hotel lobby is as tangible in this moment, as it was almost half a century ago. He was so full of vitality, and strength and being. And as I grew to know him and love him, he was everything I had intuitively perceived at that very first moment—and of course, he was so much more.

But, the grand wheel of time pushed forward, ever forward, like a giant millstone--grinding everything in its path…into the dust of yesterday. And I suppose that’s the point, really. Hasn’t it always been the point? Every pilgrim who attends Ash Wednesday Mass, hears those very words whispered into his soul, as the priest presses the ashes of yesterday’s blessings onto our foreheads and says, “For you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” (Gen. 3:19)

This is an absolute truth. I’ve heard many cynics along the journey claim that there is no such thing as absolute truth; but even they must admit that death comes to all. Hence, Death is an absolute truth. It is the definitive end of the mortal body. It is…in its truest sense, dust.

There is dust all around me now. For in this present veil of tears, that young man in the hotel lobby, the man of my dreams, and the knight of my heart…is slowly being ground into dust.

He is in the noble process of dying.

I find it exquisitely painful to see him as he was--that virile young man of my youth, juxtaposed with the wounded warrior of my present framework. The character of such a recollection is both bittersweet and stark, and I do not deny hours and occasionally a day or two filled with tears, longing, and prayers of petition, as the grand millstone continues its ultimate task…to grind him into finer and finer dust.

“For you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Of course…all of us will die, because death is an absolute. But death seems especially difficult, when we had a different expectation; a different outcome etched into the window panes of our souls. I am no different. I desired a wholly different ending to my fairy tale. I want Seth to stay with me…just a little while longer.

And so I pray. I plead. I beg, for God’s merciful intervention…if it is His will.

“…for nothing will be impossible for God.” Luke 1:37

It’s a funny thing how God works in our lives. I have spent hours, days, and weeks in continual prayer for Seth. I believe God can have no misunderstandings regarding my feelings about him, and our future together. But as my prayer life continued to expand, I discovered something quite wonderful…God really was there. He was sustaining me, and comforting me, just as He said He would. I don’t know why I was surprised by this…but I admit to being caught off guard. The more I found Him, the more I sought Him, and He always responded with words of comfort, scripture and most importantly—understanding.

It was during one of these interior moments with God, that He began to reveal an unusual truth that I had not really thought about before. Please understand, this is not a new revelation, or teaching (God forbid!), but it was a new understanding for me, and perhaps it will be for you too…

What do we really know about the actual substance of the soul? Certainly, the dust that formed our bodies is not the stuff of souls. Dust is transient, fleeting and mortal. But the soul…ah yes, the soul, was crafted in the Image of the Creator Himself. We do not know the actual material that makes up a soul, but we know something about its essence: it is immortal, it is like God, and its value is the price of Divine Blood. So when death finally comes, we are separated from the flesh we inhabited--for it must return to the ground from which it came. But the soul--still retaining its immortal, eternal character--proceeds to eternal life…or…eternal death. This is the essential reason that Jesus came to earth, where He suffered, died and rose again…so that our souls would not be forced to suffer the same curse of death that had been placed upon our mortal flesh. Death is a consequence reserved for all mortal flesh. But the soul, infused with the grace of the Holy Spirit, will live an eternal life with God. It will not die…if we choose Him. But we must choose Him. That is the caveat.

This understanding fills me with peace, like torrential rain on an arid, forsaken desert. I do not know if this current trial will finally claim the life of my husband…that is in God’s Hands; but I know that no matter what happens, I have every hope and confidence that my husband--that beautiful young man leaning against the column, and the tough, battle-scarred man of our life together has chosen God as his Master.

I am comforted.